Deep in My Heart
by ThatBeardedPiper
Summary: What would have happened if Amira's father had never been arrested?  If she'd never got back in touch with Syed again in 2009?  How would Syed's story have turned out differently?
1. Chapter 1

**Yep, starting a new multi-chapter fic before finishing the last one, sorry! 'Coming Home' will be completed eventually, if slowly. This story is something a bit different for me so reviews very much appreciated.**

**This is an AU story, asking the question of what would have happened if Amira's father had never been arrested? First chapter begins May 2009, the day after Amy's Christening and the disastrous lunch with Amira.**

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><p>"Good morning, lovely people!" Christian surveyed the mostly-empty kitchen and amended his greeting. "Well, good morning lovely person anyway." He strolled further into the room as Syed flashed him an unreadable look before turning his attention back to the stove. "Where is everyone?"<p>

Syed looked back over his shoulder, still stirring whatever was bubbling away. He looked grumpy and not in the mood to talk - as far as Christian could judge on a five-day casual acquaintance anyway. "Mum's gone to the wholesalers, Dad's still on his rounds. And I don't think Jane's on the rota for today...?"

Christian leaned against the wall and looked thoughtfully at his colleague. "Ooh, you are the golden boy, aren't you?" he said, smiling. "I'd been working six months with your mum before she left me alone in the unit, you've not been here a week. Did she leave you a long set of instructions about not burning the place down? A list of emergency numbers? Detailed timings for everything that needs to be done? Exactly how much is in a pinch of salt?"

Finally, a smile cracked through that impassive countenance - which had been Christian's aim since walking into the unit - and Syed put down the spoon and turned around to lean against the worktop. "Maybe. Or _maybe_ I'm just more trustworthy than you."

Christian grinned at him. "Than me? Never." He wandered back towards the lockers to dig out his uniform, calling behind him as he went. "I am the very epitome of trustworthiness. Your mum would trust me with her life." Popping his head back round the corner, he added, "Just not with her cooking. Stick the kettle on, would ya, I'm parched."

Syed reached for the kettle, suppressing the smile that kept threatening to erupt across his face. He was being ridiculous, he knew. He was going home, had already packed up the few things he had at Janine's and would be making Shabnam's old room his own after work that night. He should be ecstatic; and he had been, yesterday. But lying awake in the early hours of the morning in Janine's spare room for the last time, all the old doubts and fears had begun to creep back into his mind. Could he do this? Be part of his family again, make his dad trust him, live up to his mum's expectations, make his parents proud? If he worked hard, paid back all the money, helped make the business a success, would it be enough? And then there was Amira...

Contrary as it was, part of him was determined to hold on to the bad mood that had taken hold once Mum had left him alone in the unit this morning. He had lost his girlfriend yesterday, surely a bad mood was the least anyone would expect. And for reasons he didn't want to look at or analyse too closely, he didn't want Christian to be the one who snapped him out of it. It was dangerous territory. Christian was one of those people whose good moods were infectious, whose smile lit up his whole face, eyes twinkling and full of mischief... Far too dangerous to let him in. Best to keep the walls up, stay polite and friendly but never personal. It was a technique he had mastered working in property; be charming, flirty, witty, pretend to be everyone's best mate, but never let that mask slip.

In that world, of course, you expected your colleagues to be as false as you were. He wasn't stupid, he knew things would be different working for the family business. Ian, Jane and Christian all seemed decent enough, people you could imagine getting on okay with - his mother's dire opinion of Ian Beale aside - but that didn't mean he needed to make friends with them. Concentrate on the task at hand; regaining his family's love and respect, making a success of his life. He attacked an onion with a little more force than was necessary, wondering what was taking Christian so long in the office...if he turned around, would he see Christian changing his shirt through the open blinds?

Amira. Syed forced his mind back to Amira. Her words had stung, of course. He knew he had hurt her, deserved everything she threw at him; his family hadn't deserved her insults, but he knew that to be his fault too. But the loss of her had stung more. She was perfect, everything he wanted in a girlfriend. Beautiful, funny, smart, from a good family, well-connected...having her on his arm had made him feel proud, happy. Safe. He was the envy of every man with her by his side. He had imagined bringing her home to his family so many times since he had met her; a successful businessman with a beautiful girlfriend, his mother's face lighting up with pride as he told her about Amira's father and his ambitions for the business...

Syed let out a sigh and threw a second onion onto the chopping board with force, enjoying the satisfying thunk as the knife cut through it. Where had it all gone so wrong?

"Careful, you'll have your fingers off," said a cheerful voice behind him. Syed turned back round to see Christian grinning at him as he pulled on an apron. "Work schedules?"

"Where they always are, on the board," said Syed shortly, using the knife to gesture in that direction.

Christian raised an eyebrow at him before heading over to unpin the schedule for the day from the board. "I hesitate to ask while you're holding that knife, but would you bite my head off if I said 'smile, it might never happen'?"

Syed hesitated, not sure whether to take offence or not; he had a strange feeling he was being tested in some way. The temptation to snap back didn't last long however, and he let the mask slip back on, managing a polite smile. "And if it already has?"

"Oh dear, sounds ominous. You're not bothered about the christening, are you?" asked Christian, brow furrowed. "It was a bit of a disaster, granted, but we'll still get paid, don't worry..."

Syed sighed and turned his attention back to his work. "It's not that. How's your friend today, by the way?"

"Roxy?" Christian walked over to stand next to him and leaned forward, reaching one hand up to pull down his lower eyelid and expose bloodshot eyes. "See that?" Syed nodded mutely. It was taking all his self control not to leap backwards, out of harm's way; it was like an electric shock had raced through him, every nerve ending on fire. His body's reaction to Christian's looming presence was terrifying, the panic almost overwhelming him. Was the older man doing this on purpose, testing him or teasing him, seeing if he reacted? But then Christian leaned back again, seemingly oblivious and Syed forced himself to calm down.

"That," Christian continued, "is the result of several bottles of wine and my best friend bending my ear for most of the night. Also the reason I was late today, don't tell your mum." He winked and sauntered over to the sink to wash his hands. "She'll be fine though, she's made of tough stuff is our Rox."

"I think I missed some of the finer detail of what happened..." said Syed, amazed at how normal his voice sounded and awash with relief that Christian didn't seem to have noticed anything.

"Don't ask," said Christian with a groan. "Family stuff. Her family's..." He trailed off, seemingly at a loss to describe the Mitchell clan. "...complicated."

"Aren't they all?"

He laughed. "Very true. Mine's an absolute bloody nightmare." He sounded astonishingly upbeat about it and Syed risked a quick glance to see him still smiling as he started work.

"Are you always this relentlessly cheerful in the morning?" he asked. "Even with a hangover?"

"Always." Christian grinned. "Didn't your mum tell you?"

"She must have neglected to mention that detail."

"Ah, you'll get used to me." He nudged Syed's shoulder as he went past on the way to the fridge, and Syed once again had to fight the urge to flee in panic.

"I'll have to learn to live with it, I suppose…"

"Er, hello? Is anyone going to help me here or do I have to wait until you've finished your little chat?" They both turned at the familiar sound of Zainab's irritated voice and Syed rushed to help her with the box she was struggling with. "The rest of it's at the top of the stairs, Syed, could you fetch it down for me please?" She turned to Christian, barely taking pause for breath. "Have you heard our wonderful news, Christian? Syed is returning home, back to the very bosom of his family."

Syed was halfway up the stairs by the time Christian's dry reply floated past.

"I think you may have mentioned it yesterday, Zainab, once or twice…Or three hundred times..."

The noise of their bickering faded into murmurs as he reached the top of the stairs and left the unit, leaning against the wall for support and welcoming the cold air against his skin. This was _insane_. Here he was, trying to rebuild his family's trust, and he was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Syed shook himself. He was emotional and he was tired and he was confused. All of _that _was behind him now, a shameful past left in Leeds. He was being tested, but he had the strength and the faith to deal with it.

Determined, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Time to get control of his life again.

_"Hi, this is Amira. Leave a message."_

"Amira? I'm so, so sorry, you have to believe me…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the delay in updates! Life has been busy, they should come a bit faster now. Thank you for reviews, especially to Clarkeyfangirl, whose review spurred me to get a move on and update both my fics.**

**I'm still following canon here for the moment, but things will start to diverge soon...**

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><p>"Scotland?" Christian wrinkled his nose.<p>

Jane seemed oblivious to his expression as she stared dreamily at the wall of the Masala Queen kitchen. "It would just be so wonderful to get properly away from everything, you know? Lots of long walks...all that scenery and fresh air..."

"Rain, wind, hills, midges..."

Jane turned to aim a half-hearted slap at her brother and he dodged it, grinning. "You always have to find the fault in everything, don't you, Christian?"

Christian threw his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. "Aw, I'm only teasing, babe, it'll be fabulous. Do you good to have a proper holiday for once."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter anyway," she muttered darkly. "It's not going to happen. Ignore me, I'm just dreaming..."

He frowned down at her. "What do you mean? The prize was all paid for, isn't it?"

"It's not as simple as that, Christian. For a start, we'd have to take Bobby out of school to take him with us-"

"It's two weeks, they probably wouldn't even notice he'd gone."

"-and there's the twins, it would be so disruptive and someone would have to move in to keep an eye on them-"

"I can look after them, they're good kids..."

"-and the businesses, we can't just up and leave all our responsibilities here-"

"You're allowed a holiday for Christ's sake!"

"And anyway, Ian's being..." Jane trailed off and threw Christian a quick look. "Well, Ian, about it all."

Christian nodded solemnly at her. "Alas, something for which there is no cure." He grinned and pulled her into another hug. "You're being an idiot, sis. And you can tell Ian from me he's being one too, not that that's a surprise. Go. Go to Scotland, leave the dreary world of Albert Square behind for a bit, and have a wonderful time..."

"Scotland?" A new voice had entered the conversation. Christian and Jane broke their hug, turning around to see Zainab enter the unit, trailed by Masood. "You're going to Scotland, Jane?"

"Well, no, probably not," said Jane, glancing at her brother again, "but I did win that holiday in the raffle, remember…?"

"Yes," said Zainab, laughing, "but you're not actually going to go, are you? What about here? You have to give at least a month's notice before taking annual leave, it's in the handbook."

_We have a handbook?_ Christian mouthed at Masood, who shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"And we're doing that whole publicity drive as well, trying to drum up new business, yeah? We were going to look at bidding for that City Museums Group contract-"

"Just stop, okay Zainab? It's fine. We're not going anyway." Jane attempted to give a weak smile, which completely failed to hide the tears beginning to form. "I need to get to the cafe, I only stopped in to talk to Christian."

Christian held out a hand to her as she began to walk away. "Jane..."

She twisted away and kept walking, hurrying past Masood when it looked as though he might have reached out a hand too. "I'll see you later, Christian."

Christian waited until her footsteps had reached the top of the stairs before turning on Zainab. "Well, thank you very much."

"What? What did I do?" She looked defensive, and Christian suspected she knew she had gone too far, but was in no mood to let her get away with it.

He shifted into combat mode, leaning forward with his hands on his hips. "Well, for a start, you sounded exactly like that useless excuse of a husband of hers."

Zainab scoffed. "You're being ridiculous. All I did was point out that she has responsibilities here, yeah? We can't all go swanning off at a moment's notice - and where exactly do you think you're going?" The last part was directed at Masood, who had silently been creeping out of the room while the argument went on.

"I thought I'd just..." He gestured vaguely towards the stairs before his hands fell limply to his side in the face of Zainab's stare. "...get...to...work?"

"Uh huh." She glared at him for a moment before turning back to Christian. "I'm going into the office to catch up on the invoicing. I suppose I can leave you two alone in here to start preparations for this afternoon?"

"Ja, mein Fuhrer," Christian replied, not quite sotto voce as she walked away. She turned back to look at him with suspicion and he flashed her his sweetest smile.

Masood walked over to join him, looking a bit sheepish. It was a familiar expression, often seen when Zainab was having one of her moments, but Christian had little patience for it today. The conversation with Jane had left him feeling out of sorts even before Zainab had stuck her oar in and he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"She's a bit stressed," Masood said eventually, doing his best conspiratorial 'women, eh?' eye roll and shrug. "Family stuff."

"Fine," said Christian shortly. "Any need to take it out on the rest of us?"

"Well, you know Zainab." He scratched the back of his neck and gave an awkward chuckle. "Do you think she'll be all right?"

"She's your wife, Masood."

"No, I meant..." Masood jerked his head back to indicate the stairs. "Jane."

Christian looked at him with suspicion. "She'll be fine. But try and keep Zainab away from her for a while if she's going to do the small-minded dictator act."

"Ooh, harsh." Masood frowned and then smiled. "But fair, I'll grant you."

"Hmm."

Masood looked awkward. "I think it's just when she feels out of control of things at home...it makes her feel better to know everything's under her control here, you know?"

Christian glanced at him as he reached for a knife and started chopping peppers. "So go on then. What's so out of control at home? Tamwar's joined the Hell's Angels?"

He laughed. "Oh, I wish. Can't you just picture it? No, she's been matchmaking. For Syed. She managed to contrive 'chance' meetings with some nice girls from a good family – and got me to spy on them." Masood pulled a face. "He, uh, didn't take too well to it."

"I can't imagine why," said Christian, laughing as his imagination pictured a scene where the reserved young Muslim sat on a chair in the Masoods' sitting room while a procession of girls were paraded in front of him and Zainab extolled their virtues. _Now this one, Syed, has nice sturdy arms and wide hips, eh? Good for childbearing – and of course she'll be useful in the business, lifting and carrying... _"This is how you do things round your way, is it? Line them up and have him check their teeth to make sure they're not lying about their age?"

"No! No." Masood gave him a look. "No. It's more...creating opportunities, you know? Seeing if there's a spark? Mind you, Zainab might have taken it a bit far."

"Zainab? Never. So, no sparks then?"

"Not so far, no. He's meeting the other daughter for lunch tomorrow though. Just don't tell him, I think Zainab was hoping to surprise him with it in the morning so he doesn't have time to think of an excuse..."

Christian held up his hands in a 'stop' gesture. "Whoa, hold on - I'm just here for the Masood Family Comedy Hour, I never agreed to lying to the poor boy or getting mixed up in your wife's insanity-"

"In_sanity_?" Zainab had re-entered the kitchen and both men flinched guiltily at the sound of her face. "Did I just hear you right?"

Christian turned to face her, feeling guilty. "Sorry, Zainab. That was a joke – and a bad one, sorry."

"Can you please tell me what is so _'insane'_ about a mother wanting the best for her son, huh? Wanting him to meet a nice, suitable girl who'll be good for him rather than another stuck-up, spoilt-" She didn't finish the thought, whirling round on Masood instead. "And you! I'm sorry, when did we start telling our private family business to all and sundry? Perhaps I should find a loudspeaker and then go and shout it out in the pub, eh?"

"Oh come on, Zee," said Masood, with a familiar appealing-for-calm tone in his voice. "Christian's a friend, he's hardly 'all and sundry'."

"Oh well, that makes it all right then," she snapped. "Any more family secrets you'd like me to tell you about Christian, so that you can mock them, hm? I'd be happy to tell you all about Uncle Wasim's prostrate troubles, I'm sure there's _hours_ of fun you could get out of that..."

"I'm really sorry, Zainab," said Christian. "I didn't mean it. Besides, I think it's a really nice thing you're doing for your son."

She stared at him. "You do?"

"Yeah, you're trying to find him a girlfriend, what's wrong with that? State my love life's in recently, I'd love someone to try and set me up. Don't suppose you know any nice, suitable - preferably fit - men for me, do you?"

Zainab unleashed one of her best glares on him. "Oh, I see. It's all just a big joke to you, isn't it? Life? Well, this is real life, Christian, and love - marriage - family - these things take _work_. And if Syed isn't prepared to put the effort in, someone else will have to do it for him. So I can do without your mocking and your bad jokes, thank you very much."

She stormed off back to the office and Masood let out a deep breath. "Well, that was helpful," he fired at Christian before following his wife.

"I was joking?" muttered Christian to himself, left in the middle of the kitchen as an argument continued behind the blinds of the office. He turned back to his work with a sigh. Masood's story had finally helped him put his finger on why the conversation with Jane had left him in such a bad mood this morning, and the realisation was putting him in an even worse one. How could he be jealous of his sister's family life? She was married to Ian Beale, for god's sake - even a life lived entirely alone would be preferable to that.

It was almost as mad as being envious of the Masoods' golden boy, being fixed up and practically forced into marriage by his insane harpy of a mother...

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><p>No texts, no calls. Pausing outside the Masala Queen unit, Syed scowled at his innocently blank phone. It had been three weeks without a word from Amira.<p>

If it had been his brother or a friend, Syed knew that he would have told them to move on; forget about her; plenty more fish in the sea etc. After all, there was his mother, throwing pretty and suitable girls in his direction, and here he was, refusing to move on from the one who didn't want him.

He checked his phone again, pointlessly, with a sigh. Was it contrariness? Stubbornness? His inner sulky teenager automatically wanting to do the opposite of what his parents wanted for him? Or was it love, a desperate all-consuming passion that made it impossible for him to move on?

There were voices, whispering at the back of his head that _passion_ had never been a defining feature of his feelings for Amira and this wouldn't be the first time he had chased after the unobtainable girl rather than the girl who was in front of him, willing and eager...

But he ignored them. He had got good at ignoring the voices, of drowning them out with the familiar mantra; he _would_ be a success, he _would_ marry the right girl, he _would_ make his family proud. Any mistakes made in the past belonged there, there was no room in his head to dwell on memories of awkward, chaste, teenage kisses with girls who felt wrong and smelled wrong, who clung to him with soft lips and soft hands and looked at him with disappointment in their eyes...

_Or other memories, of heat and flesh, pulses racing, the feel of hot, hungry mouths, lips against lips, skin against skin, awkwardness overwhelmed by sheer _want_, desperate desire in the darkness..._

No.

He wrenched his mind back to the present, jammed his phone back into his pocket, and headed purposefully into the unit. Work was the best distraction. A successful business and his family around him; two pieces of the puzzle and he would call Amira again tonight, make her listen to him and _make_ that third piece slot into place. No deviating from the plan.

The kitchen was quieter than he expected and he remembered that his parents were out doing a function today a split second too late as Christian greeted him with a friendly smile.

"Thank you for joining us." The tone was sarcastic but not unfriendly, but Syed couldn't bring himself to smile back.

"Sorry I'm late." He headed back to the lockers for his uniform, trying to force himself to calm down. This was absolutely the last thing he needed. His paranoia that Christian might suspect something was bad enough when there were other people around acting as a buffer, but this would the first time they had been alone, working together for an entire afternoon. Could Christian just tell? Could he see it in his eyes? Read it in his voice? Would it be more obvious if Syed looked at him too often or too long, or was it more obvious if he avoided ever making eye contact? Sometimes the shame was so overbearing he could swear his past was written across his forehead, the letters blazing out for the right person to read.

Control. He took a deep breath and got a grip. All he needed was control of himself. He had been so careful, there was no way Christian could know. Forcing a fake smile onto his face, he went back to the kitchen, tying his apron on as he walked.

"Have a good day yesterday?"

Syed looked sideways at his colleague, a suspiciously innocent look on Christian's face. "Why?"

Christian threw up his hands. "I'm just asking! I heard you made some interesting new friends." He began to laugh as Syed rolled his eyes.

"Let me guess. Dad."

"He might have let something slip." Christian leaned across and nudged Syed with his elbow. "None of them take your fancy, then?"

Syed sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I know Mum means well, but this isn't how I want to do this."

"This?" asked Christian, and Syed felt himself redden under the intensity of his gaze.

"Love. Marriage. I don't know, the whole thing. When it's right, I'll know."

"Aww, so you're an old romantic at heart. Eyes across a crowded room, love at first sight kind of thing?"

"Something like that," muttered Syed. "Are you the jaded and cynical type then?"

"Nah, I believe in love," said Christian cheerfully. "I just think you need to be practical. Love doesn't last. Look at my sister; one day the love wears off and you suddenly wake up and realise you're married to Ian Beale."

Syed laughed. "Harsh. I'll tell him you said that, shall I?"

"No need. I've told him often myself."

"Anyway, it's not going to happen like that for me." He didn't know why he was continuing the conversation; it should have been dangerous territory, but there was something about Christian that made it so easy to talk to him...

"Ooh, certainty, I like that," smiled Christian. He flashed the younger man a sideways glance. "I kind of got the impression from your mum that there might be another reason. She wasn't very complimentary about said reason though, whoever she is..."

"Don't tell me," said Syed. "I don't want to know."

Christian chuckled, moving over to the sink to wash his hands. "Not too keen on her prospective daughter-in-law? Or is this an ex-prospective daughter-in-law?"

"An ex," said Syed shortly, beginning to wonder how the hell he got into this conversation, how the hell he was going to get out of it, and how very, very much he did not want to be talking to Christian of all people about this.

Christian gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, mate. That sounded a bit painful. That why you're not so keen on all these lovely ladies your mum's throwing at you?"

Syed looked at him. Those warm, friendly eyes were filled with nothing but curiosity and concern and he felt a tinge of guilt. Whatever his problems, they were his; Christian didn't deserve the blame for Syed's messed-up head. He hadn't invited or asked for these feelings that were refusing to go away.

Syed tried to smile. "Yeah. But it was my fault. I wasn't being completely honest with her."

"Oops."

"Really?" said Syed, his mouth beginning to twitch. "That's your sage advice? 'Oops'?"

Christian shrugged. "Hey, I never claimed to be an expert on relationships. You should have seen some of mine. How about: better luck next time? Plenty more fish in the sea? I think your mum would be willing to get out her fishing rod..."

They exchanged banter for a while longer before falling into an easy, companionable silence as they worked side-by-side. From time to time, Syed stole glances at his companion, whistling tunelessly along to the radio as his deft hands chopped, fried and stirred at a speed Syed hadn't quite mastered yet. His attraction to the older man was one thing - not that he really admitted the word _attraction_ to himself - and he had been here before. All he needed was control; to avoid temptation, to pray harder and rid himself of these wrong thoughts.

But it was worse than that. He couldn't help _liking_ Christian. Who could, when the sheer force of that charm assailed the senses? They worked well together and it was all too easy to imagine them becoming friends. But Christian was a daily reminder of everything Syed was trying to leave behind, all those feelings he needed to conquer. The more time he spent with him, the worse it got.

The relief was overwhelming when Zainab and Masood clattered through the door in the late afternoon with a pile of dirty dishes and a pair of matching bad moods. He rushed to help them as they bickered back and forth, the familiar sound a welcome distraction from everything he was trying to avoid thinking about. Taking dishes from their hands with shaky fingers, he focused on the task at hand, letting the argument wash over him as Christian attempted some ill-advised humour to lighten the mood.

But his relief was tinged with another emotion. Was it fear? The knowledge that he might have survived one afternoon working alone with the man, but there would be many more days just like this one as long as they continued to work together… The thought brought a smile to his lips before he could prevent it and he froze in horror. No, the other emotion hadn't been fear; it was disappointment. He'd been disappointed when his parents arrived back early.

This was ridiculous. A schoolgirl with a crush wouldn't be as pathetic as this. Syed plunged his hands into the scalding water, welcoming the shock it gave his system. He had to be stronger; he had to get over this.

Then he nearly choked on his own tongue as Christian suddenly appeared from nowhere behind his left shoulder. "Having fun?"

"Tons," said Syed, wishing he wasn't so aware of how close Christian was standing to him.

Christian looked around as if to check no one was watching them and then leaned even closer. Syed swallowed hard against the sudden tightness of his throat.

"You didn't hear this from me, okay, but I thought someone should warn you. Your mum's ambushing you with another one tomorrow."

It took a moment for Syed to work out what he meant, his attention focused solely on trying to breath normally; but then it hit him and he groaned. "You're kidding me. Not more matchmaking?"

"Shh," said Christian, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You never heard it from me, yeah? I was sworn to secrecy, but you know what? I wouldn't wish Zainab on my worse enemy." He grinned, inviting Syed to share the joke…and although Syed knew he should protest, because she was his mother and she deserved respect and she did mean well…the smile was too infectious and he couldn't help but grin back.

"Thanks for the heads up."

Christian clapped his hand on Syed's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Any time, partner." The contact felt like it was burning a hole in Syed's flesh as Christian headed away with a final wink, cheerful and seemingly oblivious to the devastation he had left in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, um, yeah. I haven't abandoned my stories; just lost a lot of enthusiasm for writing Chryed in recent months, what with onscreen developments and all. But recently I've been watching a lot of old clips which have reignited my love for these characters, and then I realised that others may also find some enjoyment in a universe where Amira's nowhere to be seen. So have delved back into this one with a vengeance; three chapters now and hopefully some more to come before too long.**

**Oh, and if you stick with these next couple of chapters, you may be rewarded with things picking up the pace and some snoggage in chapter 5.**

**I've jumped ahead in time a wee bit in this chapter, to 11 June and the dinner with Parveen, Bushra, and the Masoods - but no Amira hiding in the wardrobe this time, as she's still happily at home, living off Daddy's credit cards and waiting for a rich go-getter to make her an offer she can't refuse. Parveen and Syed have just played their trick on their parents...**

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><p>Syed offered to clear the table once they finished the main course, getting a head-start on the excessive amount of grovelling he was going to have to do to his mother once their guests had gone. He was in for it, he knew - Masood's expression hadn't been much better than his mum's and even Tamwar had failed to crack a smile, but it had been worth it for the look on their faces. It had been a rather drastic way of getting the message across, but maybe it would finally start to sink in that he was perfectly capable of finding his own girlfriend if required; and she would be beautiful and well-connected like Amira had been, suitable in every way. He caught sight of his mother's face as he stood up and began stacking plates. Maybe not.<p>

Parveen offered to help as well and she and Zainab followed him into the kitchen with the rest of the dishes. Zainab threw hers down on the table with a little more force than necessary and began piling cutlery together with zeal. The other two exchanged glances behind her back.

"Are you ok-" began Syed before Zainab cut him off, her voice slightly raised.

"I wonder if you could stay and help me with the desserts, Syed? No need for you to stay, dear, we can manage." She addressed the last remark to Parveen without ever looking at her directly.

Parveen hovered slightly awkwardly, looking at Syed as though she wanted to say something; but seemed to realise the situation and left with a nod.

"Mum…"

"Humilating me like that!" Cutlery and crockery flew into the sink with a crash, and Syed couldn't help taking a step or two backwards from the ball of fury that was his mother. "In front of our friends! Am I that much of a joke to you, Syed, huh? Do you have that little respect for your mother? Did I bring you up to be like this-"

"Mum. Mum!" He took hold of her hands in an attempt to stop the wild gesticulation, and she finally turned to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it - the temptation to wind her up was always irresistible, but he hated seeing her upset, he always had. "But Bushra will be fine, it was just as much Parveen as it was me. And hopefully the pair of you might get the message now. We don't need setting up, we are both adults and perfectly capable of sorting out our own lives." He said it with a gentle smile, to take the edge out of his words, and possibly the smile and the tone got through to her as she visibly relaxed.

"I know. But what's the harm, Syed, eh?" She looked at him pleadingly and it took all his self control not to roll his eyes back at her. "Where's the harm in a mother trying to help out her son? I only want to see you happy, papoo..."

"You take it to extremes, Mum."

She bristled. "I do not!"

"Remember the webcam?" It could be a mistake to bring it up, he knew, as his mother in guilty, over-defensive mode could be worse than she usually was, but it was his best weapon at the moment. He cut her off as she started to speak again, adding, "If I wanted to humiliate you Mum, I could have told Bushra all about the webcam business. That really wasn't my intention, honest."

She sighed. "Fine. I just worry about you, Syed. I'm scared...this will never happen for you. I'm just trying to help you back on to the right path."

He froze, panic instantly setting in. Could she mean...? Could she _know_? Was she trying to hint? Logic told him that hinting wasn't Zainab's style, if she knew something she marched in there all guns blazing, but logic was struggling to make itself heard over the blood hammering in his ears. "What do you mean?" he asked, managing to keep his voice under control.

"Well, really, Syed...Amira?" Distaste dripped from every syllable. "Why waste your time on a snooty, stuck-up...girl like that, when you could go out with a nice girl like Parveen, a friend of the family, respectful of her elders...what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

The relief was so great he could have kissed her, but he settled for pulling her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. "I do love you, Mum, do you know that?"

"I should hope so," she muttered grumpily, squeezing him back before letting go and picking up the dessert out on the table. "Bring through the bowls and spoons, would you please?"

They got through the rest of the meal somehow, though Zainab's attempts to be as pleasant as she could - clearly not giving up hope for the pairing just yet - made it more bearable than it could have been. Bushra's demeanour was frostier than the North Pole, but Parveen seemed to be enjoying herself, grinning a couple of times at Syed when she caught his eye.

* * *

><p>He somehow ended up alone with her at the end of the evening, Tamwar and Masood washing up in the kitchen while Zainab and Bushra conferred by the front door. The earlier relief still making him giddy, he gave her a beaming smile as he began to usher her towards the hall, which seemed to catch her off guard.<p>

"That could have gone worse," she said and he grinned.

"Well, I think we made our point. They should be leaving us alone from now on."

Parveen nodded, looking slightly awkward. "Actually, I was wondering...if maybe you fancied meeting for a coffee or something some time?"

He stared at her, not sure what to say, and she flushed to the roots of her hair. "Just as friends, I mean," she added too quickly. "Or if you ever need someone to rant about insane mothers with."

What should he say? He had absolutely no interest in dating her, he knew that - she was nowhere near the picture he had always had in his head of the perfect girlfriend - but the scene in the kitchen was playing in his mind. Maybe his mother had a point; and it might not do any harm to try and keep her happy for a while...

"Sure. That would be great," he said, surprising himself; and as Parveen smiled nervously and headed towards the door to the hall, he wondered if he was regretting it already.

* * *

><p>He met Parveen for a coffee in the park after work the following week. It seemed the safest option; no food which might indicate a date-like status to the meeting, and no sitting across from each other at a table, potentially making eye-contact awkward and lack of eye-contact rude.<p>

She took the styrofoam cup from him with a muttered 'thanks', shifting it between awkward fingers, and suggested they sit down. She must have seen his brief moment of panic as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, don't look so scared, you idiot, I'm not going to pounce on you. Whatever my mother may be thinking, I'm not having any fantasies of marriage and babies here."

"I'm not...I didn't mean..."

Parveen gave him a look over the top of her glasses as she sat down on the bench; and after a moment's hesitation, he sat next to her. "You really do think you're god's gift, don't you Syed? You expect every woman to fall in a dead faint at your feet."

"I don't," he protested, not liking something in her expression. "Honestly, I don't."

"Hmm." She looked down and carefully prised the lid off her coffee, before blowing off the steam.

Syed observed her for a moment before deciding he could risk the question. "But if you don't mind me asking...why did you ask me here?"

"You mean, if I'm not expecting marriage and babies?"

"Well..."

"For goodness' sake, you do realise there's something in the middle, right? Between marrying someone of the opposite sex and avoiding them altogether?"

He frowned at her, not getting this at all, and she sighed.

"It's called friendship, you moron. Clearly I was having a delusional day, but I had this mad idea we might be able to be friends."

"Oh." He didn't really know what to say. Parveen was still staring at her coffee cup, a faint hint of a blush beginning to creep across her cheeks.

"I don't actually meet many people who've even heard of Chekov. As damning an indictment of the British education system as it is, among trainee lawyers it's all football or the X-Factor. I don't know which is worse."

"Oh, football. Definitely. At least the X-Factor's only on for part of the year."

"Precisely. And, if I'm being completely honest..." She sighed and finally looked up to meet his eyes. "...if I go out for the occasional coffee with you, it'll get my mum off my back a bit. I'm not sure I can take much more of being ambushed with 'why don't you wear a _nice_ shirt today, you never know when you might meet someone…'" she said, slipping into a fair approximation of her mother's voice. "If she thinks I'm with you, she might leave me alone to get on with life for a while."

"Ah, I see," said Syed, smiling. "So I'm your cover here. You don't really want to spend time with me at all."

Parveen scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. You're convenient." Avoiding his gaze, she returned to her coffee.

Syed stared at her, still not sure where this was going. It wasn't such a bad idea, if they were both clear from the start it wasn't going to lead to anything; it would stop Zainab from coming up with any more mad matchmaking schemes, at least for a while (there was always a risk that the next one would be far less sensible about things like the webcam business than Parveen had been), and he did quite like Parveen. He wasn't sure how many hours he could stomach in her company if she didn't tone down the prickliness, but she was at least interesting if not exactly restful.

His treacherous mind flashed back to Amira, who _had_ been restful company, rarely requiring him to engage in the conversation beyond making the right noises and nodding in the right places. But the thought didn't cause the pang of pain it once did; instead, a small voice at the back of his mind was making itself heard, wondering what _did_ they talk about, exactly? He couldn't really remember any more...

Parveen's proposal made sense. It would suit them both, keep their overbearing mothers happy for a bit and he should be looking to make friends here in London. Real friends, not business contacts and posers who were your best mate if they thought they could get something out of it and vanished at the first whiff of failure. So why did the thought make him so uncomfortable?

"Okay," he said slowly, "but only as friends, right? We let our parents draw their own conclusions but we don't lie to them that this is any kind of relationship?"

"Yes!" she snapped. "My god, why are you so paranoid? Are you really that arrogant, that you think every woman's out to get you?"

"It's not that," Syed protested. "But I just don't want to feel like I'm using you." And that was the thing making him feel uncomfortable, he realised as he said it. He didn't want to use her. He liked Parveen too much to lead her on; and if that earlier blush meant anything, she wasn't being entirely honest about her motives.

Parveen was starting at him, looking puzzled. "It was my idea," she pointed out. "If anything, I'm using you."

"I know, it's just..." He trailed off. What was it? Why was he so set against the idea that they could become anything more than friends at some point? She was a nice girl, entirely suitable, would make his mother happy...

Unbidden, an image of Christian flashed into his mind; laughing and joking with him at work last week, telling him about the night out he had planned with Roxy, and the pang of jealousy that had shot through Syed at the thought of what that night out would probably lead to...and other images swam in front of him, too fast to stop them…Christian meeting some man, dancing with him, kissing him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt…and before he knew it, the image had changed to Christian kissing _him_, undressing him, pushing him down on a bed and straddling his hips...

_NO!_ He wrenched his mind back to the here and now with horror, frantically trying to clear his head of the images. It wasn't a option. It was nowhere near an option; Christian wasn't some random stranger in a club, he was a family friend and his parents' business partner. Even the thought, the fantasy alone, was making him feel so sick with guilt he could have retched. He had sworn to leave all that behind him, to conquer this weakness; prayed for guidance, for forgiveness, for Allah to release this burden from him. What more could he do?

Belatedly, he realised Parveen was staring at him as though he had grown two heads. Syed forced a smile onto his face, swallowing against the nausea in his throat. She didn't deserve this, any of it. He couldn't lead her on, not while his head was this messed up; but if he continued to act weirdly around her, she might start asking questions he wasn't sure he could find an answer to.

"It's just...what?" she prompted, clearly getting bored of waiting for him to finish the thought.

"Nothing. I'm being stupid. A coffee every now and then seems like a plan." The part of him that wouldn't shut up compelled him to add, however; "But we are really busy with work at the moment, so probably not that often."

"Whatever," she said, looking relieved. "Do you think I sit around and do nothing all day? I probably work longer hours than you do!"

Syed smiled, genuinely this time. "Probably." He finally got round to prising the lid from his own coffee and took a sip, wishing the drink would do something to help with the churning in his stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Christian's birthday.**

**Taken a bit of artistic licence in this chapter; was never too sure how that whole thing worked with Bushra phoning Christian 'late last night' so that he could drunkenly tell her Zainab would sing at her party. Why would anyone phone a home or mobile number late at night with a business question that could wait until the next day? And why phone Christian directly and not Zainab? For the purposes of this story, I've decided that she rang the unit late at night, intending to leave a message on the answerphone, and a drunk Christian had wandered in there after his birthday drinks for some unknown reason…**

* * *

><p>"Behave." With a final word to a suspiciously innocent-looking Lucy, Christian and James left the house via the back door and paused on Market Street.<p>

"Where shall we go then?" said James cheerfully, shoving his hands in his back pockets and looking up and down the empty marketplace with interest.

"Um…" Christian ran his hand over the back of his head. "…dunno. There's the local there, or there's an okay club round the corner…my best mate's daughter's dad owns it."

James looked confused. "Your best mate's daughter's dad? So…her ex, then?"

"Sort of. Not exactly. He's her sister's fella actually." James stared at him and Christian laughed and threw an affectionate arm around his friend's shoulder. "It's complicated."

James rolled his eyes. "Isn't it always? Well, it's your birthday, what's your choice?…Christian?"

"Hmm?" Christian realised he hadn't heard a word James had said, his attention caught by two figures at the end of the road. Janine was standing chatting to Syed - or flirting might be nearer the mark, judging by her body language as she leaned on the handle of her suitcase. A brief smile flashed across his face as he imagined the Masoods' eldest son bringing Janine Butcher home for tea as a prospective daughter-in-law. He'd pay anything to see the look on Zainab's face...

He couldn't figure Syed out. It shouldn't have bothered him the way it was starting to, but there was a faint air of mystery that intrigued him around the slim figure stood with arms folded, giving every impression of listening intently to Janine. Jane had filled him in on all the gossip. The black sheep of the family, estranged for years, no doubt got up to all sorts while he was up north; a smooth-talker, a flirt and a chancer...yet when you held that image in your mind, it didn't seem to match the reserved young man who bantered easily with Christian in the kitchen, apple of his mother's eye and devout Muslim boy.

Christian was used to being able to read people easily. As he'd told Jane once, he'd had the measure of Ian within five minutes of their first meeting. But there was something hard to read about Syed Masood; like seeing something out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look it isn't there.

A couple of hundred yards away, Syed must have felt Christian's eyes on him as he turned his head to stare. Their gazes met for a moment, but Syed turned quickly back to Janine. Something twisted in Christian's gut. There had been something in the expression on Syed's face that he didn't like the look of. Without really wanting to, he remembered again an incident in the unit a couple of days ago that he had been trying to put to the back of his mind. He had been chatting to Syed about something and had clapped a friendly hand on the younger man's shoulder as he passed; and Syed had twisted away, jumping out of arm's reach as though Christian's hand had burned him. Syed had tried to dismiss it, mumbling an apology and finding an excuse to leave the kitchen, and had been perfectly normal on his return and ever since. But Christian couldn't help being slightly bothered by it at the time, and clearly the memory had been lurking near the surface of his mind.

"Where do you want to go?" James repeated patiently. "This is your gaff." Clearly realising Christian's attention was elsewhere, James turned to look towards the end of the street. "Do you know them?"

Christian turned his attention back to the man in front of him, trying to shake off the feeling Syed's look had given him. "Sort of. I mean, yeah - that's Syed, he works with me. His parents own the other half of Masala Queen. And that's Janine, she's -" He paused, trying to think of the right word for Janine Butcher. "-she lives on the Square."

"Why don't you ask them to join us?" said James chirpily. As Christian hesitated, he rolled his eyes. "Come on, old man, it's your birthday! Let's do some celebrating, yeah?" He grinned and set off towards the end of the road, leaving Christian no choice but to follow him, do the introductions and invite them for a drink.

But he did so cheerfully, having regained his usual humour. They were an odd choice of drinking partners, a devout Muslim and a woman hated by half the community (including Christian's own family), but Christian couldn't help but have a grudging respect for Janine and he rather liked Syed. They had fallen into an easy friendship in recent weeks which Christian was getting used to; which was probably why the memory of that odd expression was lingering. He shrugged it off though, as he always did, looping an easy arm around James' shoulders as they walked and deliberately not looking at Syed to see if he reacted.

R&R was half-empty when they got there, unsurprisingly for the time of night. Christian surveyed the deserted dance floor with an odd feeling of disquiet; he'd been in clubs early on in the evening plenty of times, of course, usually getting a good spot to stand by the bar and survey the incoming talent, secure in the knowledge that he stood a good chance of getting the fittest guy in the club. Or was that true any more? When was the last time he'd gone out on the pull and come home with the best-looking guy there? It wasn't this month, he didn't think. And if he was honest with himself, did it no longer hold quite the thrill it used to?

"It's still early," he said to James, feeling some sort of need to defend Roxy's club even if it was no longer hers - and even though she had completely forgotten his birthday, blowing off his text with the excuse of being too tired and having imposed on Peggy for babysitting duties once too often recently.

James grinned at him. "Will you stop moaning? Get a few shots in you and you won't care a bit. Right then, what are we having?"

"Vodka for me, please, no ice," Janine shouted to be heard over the thumping music, leaning back on the bar and idly scanning the club.

"Syed?"

Syed started, as though he'd been thinking about something else, and looked confused for a moment before relaxing and smiling. "Orange juice, please." James stared at him and Syed shrugged, unembarrassed. He'd probably have been in this situation many times before, Christian realised, and for the first time he wondered what that must be like; to go out as one of the crowd but be apart from them in that way. "I don't drink," Syed explained.

"Really? Why not?" said James, sounding curious rather than confrontational, but Christian still felt the need to nudge him and hiss, "James!" James looked back at him in surprise.

Janine laughed and placed a hand on Syed's shoulder, smiling up at him. "Because he's a good Muslim boy, aren't you, Syed? Mummy would be so proud."

Her mocking didn't seem to bother him. "Fraid so."

"Works for me," said James. "You can help carry us all home when we're too drunk to see straight."

"That is my role in life," said Syed, still smiling. His eyes met Christian's briefly as he glanced around; but he broke the contact immediately, looking quickly away as though he'd seen something he didn't want to. Christian knew he was staring hard at him - perhaps it had made the younger man uncomfortable - but that flash of anger burned briefly in his stomach again.

James moved further down the bar to try and catch the barman's eye and Janine followed him, leaning over his shoulder to say something as they both laughed. Christian suddenly found himself alone with an unreadable Syed.

"So. You and Janine then," said Christian in lieu of anything else to say. "Can't wait to see Zainab's face when she's asked to plan that wedding." He laughed as Syed rolled his eyes; but that was his only subdued reaction. _Does he ever react to anything?_ wondered Christian. All these weeks working together in the unit; always polite, always charming, but giving nothing of himself away at all. _What was the Masoods' devout eldest son doing being friends with Janine Butcher?_

"We're just mates."

"Does Janine know that? I think I've seen that look in her eyes before, I'd run if I were you..."

"I think I've been pretty clear," said Syed, still with that quiet smile. It was beginning to get frustrating. "What about you and, um..." He waved a hand at the bar. "James."

_Was he imagining the look in his eyes? It seemed like a friendly enough casual question. _ "Just mates and all." _Was that a look of relief, that he wouldn't have to see them touching each other, behaving like a couple? _ "Good mates though, known each other for years."

Syed nodded. For a moment they looked at each other, not sure what to say next; but then James and Janine returned with drinks and the mood changed back to noise and laughter and birthday celebrations.

* * *

><p>"I definitely would!" cried Janine an hour or two later, James having vanished some time previously in search of the R&amp;R loos.<p>

"Shut up, he's just a mate," said Christian, nudging her arm indulgently but with half an eye on Syed. _Was he looking uncomfortable at the conversation?_ Christian wanted more than anything to be imagining the whole thing. Perhaps Syed was just out of sorts at being the only sober party in a group of drunken loons. But there was something not right here, and he had seen those kind of looks before; someone happy to chat to him, be his friend at arm's length, but disgust in their eyes at any reference to the idea of what he might get up to in the privacy of his own home.

What was almost bothering him more was that he couldn't put his finger on _why_ it was bothering him so much. It wasn't as though he wasn't used to it, even from people he liked and respected. He had learnt to shrug it off over the years, be proud of who he was and fuck them if they had a problem with it. But Syed in particular looking at him like that made him feel a burning anger he couldn't quite justify to himself.

"So?" said Janine with a wicked grin. "It's your birthday."

"Maybe it's his as well." It wasn't such a bad idea at that, if partly fueled by the alcohol burning through his veins. James was cute and a good mate, and would probably be a good shag at that. They'd never gone there before, but they'd been close to it once or twice. Maybe tonight was the night?

He grinned and started dancing with Janine, who squealed in delight.

"I knew the tequila was a bad idea." James had returned.

Christian pulled him into the dance with a laugh. One arm around his neck, he planted a kiss on James' cheek before glancing over to Syed before he could stop himself. Still no real reaction, but Syed was staring down at the drink in his hand, looking as though he wished he were anywhere else but here. _Why doesn't he just leave?_ thought Christian with another flash of anger. _Why stand there, sober and silent, nursing his orange juice, if we offend him so much?_

"You okay, mate?" said James to Syed, having clearly also noticed the silent spectre at the feast. "Want another drink?"

"No, you're all right," said Syed. "Think I might head home actually."

Janine and James both began to protest - genuinely, it looked like in Janine's case - and Christian joined in even if his heart wasn't really in it.

Syed waved off the protests. "Ought to get home before Mum sends out a search party. Besides, some of us have to work tomorrow."

Christian groaned. "Oh god, don't remind me. I swear, your Mum gets a hundred times shriller on the days I'm hungover."

"I'll tell her you said that," said Syed with a grin as both James and Janine laughed. "Um, happy birthday," he added to Christian. "See you tomorrow. Bye guys." With an awkward wave, he was gone.

Christian, never one to dwell on things, turned his attention back to the warm body pressed into his as they moved to the music. Why waste time worrying about things he couldn't change?

* * *

><p>"I should phone Ed," James slurred as they wove their way along Market Street. "Tell him I love him."<p>

This penetrated through the warm haze of alcohol pleasantly fogging up Christian's brain and he stopped walking. It took a moment for James to notice. "Ed?"

James turned back to look at him. "Ed! I told you about Ed. I didn't tell you about Ed?"

"No."

James walked back, retrieving his phone out of his pocket with some difficulty as he went. "There you go. Ed. Been together about 18 months now."

Eighteen months? Christian tried to focus on the ordinary-looking bloke in the picture on James' phone with some annoyance. How did he not know about this?

"He's lovely, isn't he?" said James with fondness in his voice, and Christian bit back the automatic sarcastic response, opting for a non-committal 'hmm' instead. James didn't seem to notice.

"You not got anyone special in your life, Chris?" James looked at him with concern. "I worry about you, you know."

"Don't," said Christian shortly. "I'm fine."

"You're not getting any younger."

"Oh, thank you!" Christian stared at his friend in disbelief - he'd forgotten alcohol had this effect on James, like it was his mission to tell everyone the blunt truth whether they liked it or not.

"I'm serious. The field's getting narrower. Another birthday ticked by and nothing to show for it…" James waved the photo of Ed again to emphasise his words, and Christian felt his temper flare.

"Well, thank you for your oh-so-touching concern, _mate_, but I can think of better pictures to have on my phone-" He reached into his pocket for his phone, intending to demonstrate the point with his wallpaper of a topless Jake Gyllenhaal, but his searching hands came up empty. He frowned. "Where's my phone?"

"Dunno," said James unhelpfully. "Did you have it when you came out?"

"Well, that was twenty years ago so it's unlikely…" muttered Christian, removing his keys from one pocket and patting all sides of his jeans again, just in case.

James rolled his eyes. "Funny."

Light dawned and Christian let out a groan. "I left it in Masala Queen."

"There you go then, you can get it in the morning," said James with a shrug. "Thought we were going for a drink back at yours?"

Christian stared at his friend for a moment, trying to make up his mind. If James came back to his, would he be subjected to another hour about how old he was getting and how few fish there were left in the sea? Suddenly feeling tired and old, and still reeling from the revelation James had apparently been in a committed relationship for _eighteen months_, for fuck's sake…he shook his head.

"Do you know what, mate, let's just leave it. I'm going to go to the office and get my phone. I'll see you around sometime, yeah?"

James looked taken aback, but leaned forward, arms outstretched for a hug anyway; and after a moment's hesitation, Christian gave him one. They said their goodbyes and Christian headed back along Market Street in the direction of the Masala Queen unit.

* * *

><p>With the exaggerated care of the moderately pissed, Christian managed to get the door to the unit open before pausing in mild surprise. It looked like someone had left a lamp on in the office, a warm pool of light in the darkened space. Clinging to the bannister a little more forcefully than needed, he crept his way down the stairs, before pausing again at what sounded like a muffled sob.<p>

"Hello?" he called out as he continued down the stairs. The sound echoed oddly in the dark hallway. "Anyone there?"

There was no response as he walked into the office just in time to see Syed stand up from the sofa, wiping an angry hand across his eyes a second too late to hide the tears.

"What are you doing here?" he barked, a tad more aggressive than necessary and Christian felt his own hackles rise in response.

"Left my phone here," said Christian, pointing and walking over to where it was lying innocently on the desk. "What are you doing here? Thought you were going home?"

Syed swallowed, looking awkward. "I was. But I just...needed a minute." He attempted a smile that didn't quite convince and waved a hand. "It can be a bit overwhelming in that house sometimes."

Christian looked at him for a moment, sympathy creeping back in and cooling down the righteous anger. It was bad enough working with Zainab, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to live with the woman. "Are you okay?" he asked, the words coming out less sympathetically than intended.

"I'm fine," said Syed, the mask back in place as he smiled that unreadable smile. If Christian hadn't already seen the tears, he might almost have believed it. And for some reason - probably the tequila - he couldn't quite shake that knot of self-righteous anger from his gut. What did Syed have to be crying about? He had youth on his side, good looks; his family, the family business, a mother who cared enough to throw beautiful girls in his direction rather than one whose rare phone calls from the other side of the world still contained that faint note of disapproval...

There was an awkward pause for a moment as they looked at each other. Christian knew he was intruding, knew that he should just pick up his phone and go, but something was stopping him. Again, there was that feeling he had experienced in the club; there was something else going on here, and if he pushed hard enough he could get to the bottom of the mystery that was Syed Masood...but what if he didn't like what he found? That disapproving look still lingered in his mind. _Be careful what you wish for..._

"You've got your phone," said Syed quietly.

Christian nodded, picking it up from the desk and looking at it before looking back at Syed. "You know, you could have stayed out with us tonight," he blurted out, unable to stop himself scratching at that itch. "If you didn't want to go home. We were having fun, weren't we?...Weren't we?" he repeated as Syed failed to answer.

"Yeah, of course. But I didn't want to intrude," said Syed. "Looked like you and your friend had some catching up to do."

"Janine was there too. You were hardly intruding. Don't have a problem with James, do you?" The feeble attempt at a lighthearted tone couldn't possibly have fooled Syed for a second; but that mask stayed in place, no reaction.

"Of course not. James is fine. Great."

Christian nodded slowly. "So is it me then? You have a problem with me?"

Syed scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"See, I'm not so sure I am being ridiculous. I thought we were mates, but I'm starting to wonder if I've done something to offend you."

They had both moved while the conversation was taking place, Syed edging further towards the door; and almost without thinking, Christian repositioned himself so that he was blocking Syed's exit from the room.

"You've not done anything," said Syed quietly, his eyes flicking from side to side, never meeting Christian's, as though he were searching for an escape route. "We're fine. I'm going home, I'll talk to you in the morning when you're sober..."

"I'm not that drunk," said Christian. "Sober enough to know when there's something else going on here. Cos if you did have some kind of problem with me, you'd tell me to my face, yeah? I'd rather know than have you pretending to be my mate and bottling up how you really feel about me-"

Finally, a reaction! But Christian's triumph only lasted a split-second. _Something_ had flashed across Syed's eyes there, but it looked wrong, not what he was expecting.

"I don't have a problem with you," Syed croaked out, his voice sounding hoarse. "Honestly. You can live your life however you want."

"What the hell does that mean?" snapped Christian in frustration. Why had there been the slightest of stresses on the 'you' in '_you_ can live your life...'?

"Nothing. Look, I'm going home." Syed moved to try and dart around Christian, heading for the door, but Christian blocked his path, holding out an arm to stop him.

"No, you'll stay here and tell me exactly what you meant by that-" he began, one hand on Syed's chest to hold him back.

But then he saw it.

The mask finally slipped. Just for a moment, so quick he could almost think he imagined it; but then the movement was repeated, slower this time. Syed's eyes dropped down to his lips. Such a tiny thing, but with such earth-shattering consequences Christian felt his head swim.

It was as though the heavens had opened and a booming voice had shouted down the truth. Syed didn't have a problem with him. Syed _wanted_ him. And in the flood of realisations that flashed across his mind in that split-second, the biggest hit Christian with a force that could have knocked him over. He wanted him back. Dear god, did he want that beautiful man standing in front of him, dark chocolate eyes flickering back and forth like he was trying to read the meaning of life in Christian's face. Christian was almost dizzy with the sudden twin rush of shock and desire.

For a moment it seemed like the earth stood still as they stared at each other. Christian almost wanted to laugh, though he suspected it wouldn't be the best move. He didn't know what to do. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, he wanted to yank Syed into his arms and kiss the life out of him; but some sixth sense was telling him to hold back.

Slowly, inch by inch, Syed leaned towards him; and Christian stayed where he was, swallowing to work some saliva into his suddenly dry mouth. Then Syed's lips were on his and he opened his mouth to receive the kiss.

Oh, _yes._


	5. Chapter 5

**A wee bit of mild smut in this chapter, if you need warned for that kind of thing.**

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><p>Syed knew he should never have agreed to go out with them. He should have thought up an excuse, wished Christian a polite happy birthday as one colleague to another, and gone straight home. But some masochistic streak had made the 'yes' escape his lips before he could stop himself. Or perhaps it was the Masood stubborn streak resulting in some desire to prove to himself that he could do this, that he could go out for a friendly, casual drink with an acquaintance without giving his shame away.<p>

Only trouble was that he couldn't.

It had been like some form of specialist torture. He had almost become used to the fantasies that plagued his waking hours and were beginning to invade his dreams as well; more often than not, he was able to distract himself, force himself to concentrate on work or family, push the guilt down to a quiet murmur rather than an all-consuming scream.

The fantasies were one thing. But he could never have been prepared for the stab of jealousy that hit him when he saw Christian touching some man outside the Beales' house. And it _was_ a stab. It hit him full force, as though someone had plunged a knife into his guts, leaving him winded and gasping for air.

It was ridiculous. Christian wasn't his; could never be his; could never, under any circumstances, find out about his feelings. And Syed wasn't an idiot. He knew Christian was no monk. He had tortured himself many nights over with unbidden thoughts of what Christian might be getting up on a night out. Christian might tone down the details while in Masala Queen out of respect for Zainab - or possibly just not wanting the hassle - but the odd innuendo or jokey comment was enough to fill Syed's head with images he didn't want.

Or worse, images he _did_ want; and the acknowledgement that he wanted them was terrifying. He was exhausted from being constantly on edge, constantly trying to distract himself, constantly maintaining that mask. He didn't know how much longer he could go on pretending...but stopping the pretence wasn't an option, could never be. And then came James.

He couldn't stop himself from staring at them in the street. Couldn't stop his heart from lifting when Christian confirmed they were only friends. Couldn't stop his heart from sinking back down again every time Christian touched or kissed his 'friend'. Couldn't stop that inner scream of horror and the urge to clamp his hand over Janine's mouth as she encouraged Christian to go for it.

So he had fled, like a coward; but better to be a coward than to have stayed and risked giving away his shame. No, not a coward. A good Muslim boy surely, removing himself from temptation.

The fear flooded through him as he sat in the dimly lit Masala Queen office, hands shaking slightly as he tried to hold back the tears. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he had given himself away already. All these weeks trying to control his feelings, to keep the mask in place, and all for nothing. Christian had been giving him odd looks all night, staring hard at him, looking...what was it, angry? Disgusted? The bile rose up in Syed's throat.

What had he expected? All those scenarios that had been invading his thoughts however hard he tried to fight them - and had he been fighting all that hard recently? - and not once had he imagined disgust. He had envisioned pity as a reaction, kind rejection, or maybe laughter, mockery; and in the dark of the night as he tried to sleep, the hope, barely acknowledged as a hope, that he wouldn't _be_ rejected, that he would see desire reflected in bright green eyes. The memory of seeing those eyes filled with anger hit Syed again and the tears started to flow. He had given his shame away, and even Christian was disgusted by it. He imagined Christian telling his parents and their horror and revulsion. He could almost _hear_ Dad's righteous anger, the 'I told you so' hovering on his lips; Tam's quiet disapproval; and Mum... He pictured her turning her back on him, casting him out as Dad had done years before, and the tears began to fall in earnest.

Should he say something to Christian? Beg him, threaten him not to tell? But that would be confirming how he felt, leaving the option - always the preferred option - of blank denial unavailable. And what if he was wrong, and Christian _hadn't_ worked out how Syed really felt…?

"Hello? Anyone there?"

He could hardly believe it when he heard Christian's voice. Was he being tested, for god's sake? Was this punishment for his sins? So he reacted with more anger than he meant to, borne out of frustration and fear, confusion as to what he should do.

The relief was overwhelming when he realised that Christian didn't know anything, that he had got completely the wrong end of the stick. In the flood of confused emotions that hit him in that moment - not helped by Christian's proximity, his hand on Syed's chest - he let his guard down. Just for a moment, but it was enough. He knew instantly that Christian had seen it, the shock and realisation clear in his eyes. But he didn't look angry or disgusted or repulsed; he stayed where he was, hand still placed over Syed's hammering heart while they locked eyes together.

What else could Syed do? The small voice protesting it wasn't too late to turn and run was being drowned out by every other instinct screaming to lean forward and kiss the man in front of him. So he did.

He was lost as soon as their lips met; but oh, what a way to go. Christian opened his mouth, responding eagerly to the kiss as he pulled Syed further into him, one hand round his waist and the other sliding slowly up Syed's neck to nestle in his hair. Every nerve ending sang in delight, leaving Syed with the feeling little electric shocks were running up and down his body.

As they tentatively began to explore each other's mouths, their gentle, hesitant touches becoming bolder, Syed couldn't prevent a moan rising up from deep within his throat. As if it was the signal he had been waiting for, Christian took control, pushing them backwards until Syed felt the desk digging into his legs. He didn't submit easily though, fighting for dominance with his mouth, his tongue, his hands as they explored Christian's neck and body. After endless weeks of denying himself even the fantasies, Syed felt like a man who had been dying of thirst given a glass of water. He tried to touch every part of Christian he could reach but it wasn't enough, could never be enough...

Christian pulled back, breathing hard as he broke the kiss, and Syed felt himself let out a sound that was almost a whimper as he automatically lurched forward, mourning the loss of Christian's mouth. It seemed to amuse the older man and he let out a chuckle before leaning forward again to place a quick peck on Syed's lips. Then he began to nuzzle along the stubble on Syed's chin before moving down to explore the sensitive skin on his neck. Syed found he was gripping the back of Christian's T-shirt tightly, balling up the material with both hands, just to keep himself upright while Christian nipped and lapped his way along his collar bone, alternating between pleasure and pain.

Dimly, Syed wondered where that odd noise was coming from before realising the keening was coming from his own throat. At what point did he lose his mind? The inner voice that should have been telling him this was wrong, forbidden, had fallen silent, overwhelmed by sensation. All he could hear now was the sound of their soft pants and moans filling the dim office, while another small voice wondered in astonishment how Christian could have reduced him to this with just a _kiss_.

Wanting to give something back but unsure what to do, Syed pulled Christian's T-shirt out from his jeans, running his hands under it and over the soft skin he found underneath. It seemed to be the right move as Christian let out a groan and left off his attentions to Syed's neck, pulling Syed into him for another bruising kiss. Enjoying the kiss for what it was, every part of him humming with pleasure, Syed barely registered that he was being manoeuvred away from the desk, realisation only coming when his legs hit the sofa. Thrown off balance, he landed heavily on the sofa cushions. Before he could protest - and why would he want to? - Christian had climbed on top of him, straddling his legs as he pulled Syed's chin towards him and their lips met again.

As they kissed, Syed shifted on the sofa, trying to pull the other man closer to him; then he broke off with a hiss of pleasure as their groins brushed past each other. To his shock, he realised Christian was as hard as he was; and by the look on Christian's face as they both gasped for air, he had been just as affected by the contact. Carefully, never breaking eye contact, Christian reached out his hands and held Syed's shoulders back against the sofa cushions. Breathing hard, Syed could only watch, helpless, as Christian slowly and deliberately moved his hips, rubbing their jean-clad crotches together. Syed gasped and reared up, wildly bucking his hips upwards; but Christian wouldn't let him, pinning him back down to the sofa with a wicked grin.

He leaned forward and found Syed's lips again with a slow, languid kiss before his questing mouth moved towards Syed's ear. He blew gently on it, causing Syed to squirm irresistibly under him, before whispering;

"Like that?'

It was the first words either of them had spoken since that first kiss; and the sound of it in the dark office cleared away some of the fog in Syed's brain. What the hell was he doing? This wasn't a fantasy or a stranger in a nightclub; this was real and this was _Christian_, his parents' business partner, a man he would have to work with every day...

"Please…" he said weakly; and whether he meant "_please, stop" _or "_please, more"_, he couldn't have said.

"Please what, Sy?" said Christian; and the diminutive, breathed into his ear like that before Christian started kissing down his neck again, seemed to have an effect that went straight to Syed's groin.

How far things would have gone if the phone hadn't rung, he never knew; but it did, and the harsh ring cutting into the air caused both men to jump with alarm.

After a brief moment, Christian began to chuckle. "The machine's on," he murmured before moving forward as if to kiss Syed again; but Syed held him off with a hand. Christian looked questioningly at him as the answerphone clicked on and the sound of Zainab's voice asking the caller to leave a message filled the room.

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over Syed. His skin, on fire a moment before, turned cold and clammy as he suddenly became aware of exactly where he was and how utterly mad this was. Then it got worse.

_"Zainab? It's Bushra. Sorry to call so late. Obviously you're not there but I wanted to leave a message about the entertainment for the party. I assume you have something organised? Please give me a call back the _moment_ you get in in the morning, I want to be absolutely sure everything's in hand. Look forward to hearing from you."_

Bushra. He could hardly breathe, choking in panic at the familiar sound of her voice and the images it conjured of mosque, community, family. How hard his mum fought for her reputation. How this would destroy her. He was not going to be the person that ruined all her hard work; and he was not going to lose them, not again.

Christian seemed oblivious to Syed's turmoil, smiling again as the message finished. "Talk about your mood killer," he said with a laugh in his voice, reaching out one hand to gently stroke Syed's hair. "Now…where were we?"

Frozen in panic, Syed remembered himself and pushed Christian away with some force when he leaned forward again. Christian looked puzzled as Syed squirmed out from under him to the other side of the sofa, trying to get some distance between them but not sure his legs would hold him up just yet. "Don't. Please, just…stop."

"What's wrong?"

"We can't…I'm sorry, this was a mistake. Please forget it." He stood up from the sofa on shaky legs and Christian followed suit, turning to face him.

"Hey. You're probably right," said Christian softly; and just for a moment, Syed felt a burst of disappointment, quickly followed by frustration and guilt and anger at himself for _being _disappointed. That should be what he wanted, right? For Christian to agree to forget it ever happened?

But he hadn't finished. Reaching out and taking Syed's hand in his - and Syed cursed his body for reacting to the touch, even now - Christian continued, "We shouldn't be doing this here." Rubbing his thumb gently back and forth over Syed's hand, he added, "Come back to mine?"

Syed froze, the word 'no' hovering on his lips but for some reason refusing to be said. The shame that had flooded him at the sound of his mother's voice was fading now; and the little voice that had been the one telling him to kiss Christian in the first place was back, urging him onwards, telling him it would be _just one night and no one need ever know…_

"The twins should be in bed by now, we'd have the place to ourselves," Christian went on and Syed snapped back to reality. Of course. Christian was house-sitting for the Beales while they were in Scotland; a house full of nosy kids with his parents sleeping two doors away.

His stomach clenched and for a moment he thought he might throw up. "I said no," he snapped, shoving Christian to one side with more force than he meant to in his need to get away. "I should never have…I'm sorry." Turning back at the door, his eyes met Christian's, full of hurt and confusion, and Syed dropped his gaze to the floor. "Don't…don't tell anyone, yeah? It never happened."

Without giving Christian a chance to reply, he fled for the stairs; leaving a very confused man standing in the middle of the office floor.

_What the hell just happened?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! Feedback of any kind is always very much appreciated.** :)

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><p>Christian had thought he was familiar with every way to wake up following a night out. It always started with that peaceful moment of bliss before the memories started filtering through the muddled hungover haze. Then came the the 'Oh dear god, what have I done?' awakening of guilt and sometimes horrified amusement; or the very similar 'Oh dear god, <em>who<em> have I done?' awakening; or the disappointing, flat 'Well, that was a washout' awakening; or the preferred option, the contented 'Yay, go me' awakening that came after a great night, particularly one that featured some great sex at the end of it.

This one was new. The hangover was particularly bad for a start, worse than he would have expected from what he'd been drinking; though granted, it probably hadn't been the best idea to finish off whatever foul bottle of wine he had found the kids with when he arrived home. He winced a bit at the memory - the sight of a bunch of tipsy teenagers hadn't improved his mood any and he had probably been a bit more vicious to them than was strictly necessary. If he knew Lucy, she was probably already thinking up some kind of revenge.

But the hangover was nothing to the confusion flooding his already-foggy brain. He lay in silence for some time after the alarm went off, pressing his sore head into the pillow as he tried to make sense of it all. What the hell was he going to say to Syed when he saw him next? Which would be in - he glanced at the clock and groaned - should actually have been about half an hour ago, Zainab was going to kill him.

Should he send him a casual, friendly text first? Or confront him, demand to know why the hell he had run off like that?

Not that it was much of a stretch to guess why. Syed was obviously still buried pretty far in the closet, that much was clear. Logically, Christian knew he should probably stay well away; not push him, at most indicate he'd be willing to lend a friendly ear, and under no circumstances even think of getting involved. The world was full of self-loathing, mixed-up closet cases, he knew better than to waste his time or energy on another one.

He remembered the Steven mess with a shudder; and though Syed was a grown man rather than a confused teenager with a history of psychiatric problems, he would probably do well to remember the lesson. Best to back off, to let Syed sort through his own issues, to offer support and advice if necessary, but to keep his distance.

And yet... The memory of Syed's lips against his, the feel of his stubble, the soft touch of his fingers against Christian's skin was still lingering, refusing to go away...

God, he _hated_ that feeling of unfinished business.

With a groan, Christian threw off the duvet, sat up, winced as his head protested, and then headed off for a shower. Maybe once he was clean and caffeine-fuelled the world would start making more sense.

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><p>Work. Always the best distraction. Except when it wasn't, thought Syed as the nausea rose up in his throat again.<p>

He remembered going to work on a certain Monday morning back in Leeds, full of guilt and shame after the weekend, convinced his sins must be written all over his face. But no one had noticed or cared or even asked how his weekend was; and work had been a useful distraction, the knowledge that he was good at his job helping to paper over some of the cracks.

This was different. How could he forget Christian while his presence haunted every square inch of the Masala Queen unit? When Mum kept mentioning his name every five seconds in disapproving tones? The first thing she had done on arrival at the unit was to listen to Bushra's message on the answerphone. Syed had promptly made an excuse and fled the room, unable to stomach listening to it again.

He stirred absentmindedly, staring at the wall above the stove without seeing it while Zainab wittered on behind him about work-shy employees and why should _they_ suffer just because Jane and Ian were immature enough to run off to Scotland at a moment's notice and Christian was unable to master the art of coming to work on time…

_How could he have been so stupid?_ he thought wildly. He had no idea how Christian would react, what he would do; if Christian came in this morning and started shouting the odds about what happened the night before, Syed was lost. He could deny it, claim Christian was making it up as revenge for some slight…and who knew, maybe Mum would buy it, she always believed him…but Dad was always ready to think the worst of him. He would be cast out again and for what? A few moments of pleasure?

The thought brought back the memory of the feel of Christian's body against his once again, and he began to sweat though his skin was still cold.

"Syed. Syed! The jalfrezi!" Belatedly, the steaming, smoking pot re-entered his consciousness as Zainab grabbed the spoon from his hand and pushed him out of the way. "Where on earth is your head this morning? I said three times not to let it burn! We're short-staffed as it is, it would _really_ help if you could attempt to pay attention to your work and not the wall. Or is that too much to ask?"

Having rescued the curry and decided to her satisfaction it was probably salvageable, she turned back to Syed who had been standing in silence, no idea what to say in response. Her expression of righteous anger turned to one of concern and she reached out a hand to his cheek.

"Are you all right, papoo? You look very pale…"

"I'm fine," said Syed, managing to dredge up a smile from years of practice. "Just a bit of a headache."

She glared at him, looking suspicious. "You weren't drinking when you were out last night, were you?"

He almost wanted to laugh. No. He wasn't guilty of that sin. But he was guilty of oh, so many others… He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I'm just a bit tired." The temptation to lie, to say he was coming down with something and needed to go home sick, flashed across his brain, but was dismissed as quickly as it came. That would be worse; if Christian finally turned up for work this morning and found Syed wasn't there, what might he say to Zainab?

"Are you sure?" Zainab didn't look convinced, but it looked as though the need to keep the business running would win out over the need to fuss over her eldest son as she glanced around the kitchen. "Well, I'll take over here and you make a start on those potatoes, yeah? At least you can't burn those."

As instructed, Syed moved to the worktop next to the fridges, his back to the room, and began peeling potatoes. He suspected it was his mother's version of a punishment for letting the curry burn, but the mundane task seemed to help a bit as his fingers took over automatically. He had fallen into an almost trance-like state, the same questions and answers chasing themselves around his head and never coming to a conclusion, when Zainab's sarcastic voice suddenly cut into his thoughts.

"Ah, so nice of you to join us, Christian."

"Sorry, Zee," a contrite voice answered, and Syed tensed up, every muscle in his back protesting as he fought with himself over whether to turn round or not. "I, um, had some stuff to sort with the cafe refit."

It was better to turn round, Syed decided, to pretend everything was normal. Forcing himself to turn and face Christian, he was almost disappointed to see Christian wasn't even looking in his direction, his attention all on Zainab as she spoke again.

"Oh, really? So nothing to do with the no doubt vast quantities of alcohol you drank last night? Syed told me," she added at his questioning look with a gesture towards her son, and Syed stiffened in fear as Christian finally glanced at him. Their eyes met and Syed fought down a burst of panic; but Christian looked unaffected as he turned back to Zainab.

"Did he indeed?" said Christian, and Syed lurched forward to interrupt him before he could say anything else.

"It wasn't...I didn't say that. Just that I went out with you and your friend for a quick drink last night, for your birthday." He pleaded silently with his eyes, _'please, please don't say anything...'_ even as he moved across to stand next to Zainab and nudge her with his elbow. "Aren't you going to wish Christian a happy birthday, Mum?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "He's an hour and a half late for work! We can't afford to carry slackers."

"I am still here, you know," said Christian mildly, and he glanced at Syed again, his expression unreadable. "Look, I said I was sorry, Zainab. I'll go stick an apron on."

"Well, that's a start anyway. Happy birthday, I suppose," she added grudgingly, and he flashed a grin at her as he headed to the lockers.

Syed stayed, frozen in place, torn between relief and the ever-present fear, barely paying attention to his mum as she started back on the topic of entertainment for Bushra's party. Christian hadn't said anything in front of Mum. The relief should theoretically have been overwhelming, but it had done nothing to lessen the knot in Syed's stomach.

Would Christian continue to keep quiet, or was he toying with Syed, saving up the revelation? Should he try and avoid being alone with him, try and pretend it never happened, or should he try and get Christian on his own, forestall him, ask him again not to tell?

"...Syed. _Syed_. Are you listening to me?"

He pulled his attention back to his mother. "Um..."

She frowned at him. "Are you sure you're not ill, papoo? I don't know what planet you're on today and you really do look very pale..."

Christian had walked back into the kitchen as she said this, and he threw another quick look at Syed, but still stayed silent as he finished tying his apron and headed over to the sink.

"I'm fine," said Syed defiantly, not sure if he was trying to convince his mother, Christian or himself.

"Hmm." Zainab peered at his face intently, but must have been fooled by the mask as she shrugged and began pulling off her catering gloves. "Well, if you're sure…I can trust the two of you to look after things here while I phone your cousin Wabisa about the singer they used for that party last year?" And before Syed had really registered what was happening, she had vanished into the office and slammed the door shut, and he found himself alone with Christian in the kitchen.

Silence hung heavy in the air, as Christian slowly finished washing and drying his hands before moving over to the stove. The tension was almost unbearable, Syed desperate to break it, to say something…but he had no idea what to say. He hovered awkwardly, ignoring the pile of potatoes that needed peeling, knowing he needed to do something but not sure what it was.

Then he was thrown suddenly off balance as Christian turned to him, smiled and said, "You all right?"

It was so completely _normal_, Syed had no idea how to react. "I'm fine," he said again, wondering how many times he had said that in his life and how few times he had actually meant it.

Christian nodded, glancing down at the job list he had picked up from the work-top before glancing back up again, still looking unruffled and casual. "Look, Sy…about last night-"

"I meant…what I said," Syed interrupted as quickly as he could, with an edge of relief that he finally had something to defend himself against, to deny. "We should just forget it ever happened. Don't say anything to anyone. Please." He hadn't meant for the final plea to come out sounding quite so desperate. He attempted to draw himself up, to look in control and as calm as Christian did.

Christian gave him a long, hard look, not speaking for a moment, and Syed felt himself redden under the scrutiny. "And you're sure that's what you want?" he said eventually.

Syed almost wanted to laugh. No. It wasn't what he wanted. But it was what he _needed_; the right thing to do when 'want' was wrong, forbidden. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Christian gave him another long look before speaking again. "Okay. If you're sure. I won't say a word." And with that he turned back to the stove and began his work, checking methodically over Zainab's preparations.

Syed stared at him in disbelief. Was that _it_? Could Christian really forget it so easily? It may have been forbidden, but Syed knew that the memory of Christian's kiss, their bodies colliding, wouldn't be leaving him any time soon. But Christian could apparently dismiss it without a second thought…

He turned back to his work and slowly picked up the potato peeler again, swallowing against the ridiculous lump in his throat. He couldn't shake the horrible feeling of rejection; but what had he expected? Christian probably slept with three different blokes every week and forgot most of their names by morning. They worked together in silence for a moment as Syed tried to convince his treacherous, disappointed mind that this was exactly _why_ it was a good thing they hadn't gone any further than they did last night...

"I wondered if maybe you fancied a drink later?" said a calm voice from behind him, shattering the silence that had filled the kitchen. Syed jumped, nearly slicing off the skin on his index finger in the process.

"A drink?" he said warily, not sure what Christian meant. He fought back against the small sudden glow of relief, the hope that maybe Christian _hadn't_ been able to forget him that easily. It was wrong to hope, he knew, wrong to expect or want anything from Christian; but his mind seemed to have its own ideas on the subject.

"Just a drink," said Christian, glancing at Syed with a small smile. "As mates. You know, clear the air…we have to work together, we should try to get along."

It was too tempting - a casual drink in the Vic, what harm could it do? - but after last night Syed knew he didn't trust himself. He needed to push Christian away, to get some distance between them while he fought to keep his feelings under control.

Syed reached for another potato and began peeling it. "Sorry, I'm busy tonight."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"It's Bushra's party, remember?"

Christian nodded, giving Syed another long look before turning back to his work. "Well…let me know. I'm always willing to lend an ear. You know, if you ever need someone to talk to. About anything."

"Well, thanks," said Syed, with what he hoped was a friendly but distant smile. "But I'm fine. No need."

They both turned back to their work again. As the silence stretched on, Syed began to throw longing looks towards the office window where he could see his mother chatting away, wishing she would come and dispel some of the tension in the room with her usual noise and bustle. He was beginning to believe Christian would keep his secret, and his stomach was settling down in response; but he still didn't trust Christian. Was the offer of friendship genuine, or did he have an ulterior motive…?

"I take it your parents don't know?" said Christian out of nowhere, breaking into Syed's thoughts.

"Know what?" Syed asked before his brain caught up with his ears and he froze in horror.

"That you're gay."

Syed whirled around in panic, advancing towards Christian with the potato peeler held out in front of him like a weapon before he realised how daft that must look. "I am _not_-" he hissed, stopping himself before he said the word. He glanced over towards the office, his frantic heart calming down a bit when he saw Zainab still on the phone, apparently oblivious. "Whatever…you might think, I'm not like you, okay? Last night was a _mistake_, do you get that?"

Christian seemed taken aback by the force of Syed's attack, but he stood his ground, putting his hands in the pockets of his apron and sighing. "Look, Syed…I'm not going to tell anyone, okay? Not if you don't want me to. You don't need to worry about that. But…" He paused, looking uncertain, and Syed wondered in amazement for a moment that this strong, confident man, currently holding all the power in the room, could look so hesitant.

"…you don't need to deny it," he went on. "Not to me. I was there, remember?" he added with a smile.

Syed swallowed hard, trying to free himself of the memory. "Look, I told you. It was nothing. It never happened. We all do stupid things. I've already forgotten about it, and you need to forget about it too."

Christian sighed again. "I'm not trying to push you, honestly I'm not, I'd just like you to be…I don't know, a bit honest about it? Are you really going to stand there and look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't want me last night?"

"Will you _shut up_?" hissed Syed, panic fuelling the anger racing through him as he looked wildly around. "No. I didn't."

"Come on," said Christian, scoffing; but he lowered his voice as he glanced over towards Zainab, framed in the office window. "We both know that's not true."

"Let me make this very clear." Syed was clenching his fist around the potato peeler so hard it would probably leave marks; but it stopped his hands from shaking, and he hoped it would stop his voice from shaking too. "Last night was a mistake. It was an…experiment, okay? A moment of madness. I don't want you. I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want to go for a drink with you and I don't want to be friends with you. Will you please just leave me alone."

By the time Syed had finished the speech - in grateful relief he had got through it without his voice cracking - Christian's face had changed dramatically, the calm, non-committal expression he'd had since walking into the unit giving way to anger and some other emotion Syed couldn't identify.

"Fine," snapped Christian. "I'll steer well clear." And then he smiled, a twisted smile with no humour in it. With slow, careful steps, he moved forward until he was a hair's breadth away from Syed, close enough to touch but holding himself back. Syed stopped breathing, flooded by panic and fear that Christian might try to kiss him here, Zainab only feet away, and prove just what a liar he was; and worse, the hate-filled knowledge that he was excited by the prospect almost as much as he was afraid of it.

But Christian didn't kiss him, still keeping that careful inch of space between them. Instead, he leaned forward and whispered into Syed's ear, the breath tickling the hairs on his neck; _"Don't worry. I get the message."_

He drew back, looked into Syed's eyes for a moment, and then headed back to his work, leaving Syed trembling and broken behind him. Then Zainab walked back into the kitchen, all bluster and busyness and full of the news that she'd found a singer for Bushra's party, and he remembered how to start breathing again, the mask slipping back into place.


End file.
